Madame de Pompadour

Another amazing creation by Marina Bychkova. This doll of Madame de Pompadour has the most elaborate headpiece (you can hardly call it a  "hat") of any of her creations. It has three SHIPS on it, not to mention rolls upon rolls of creamy pink fabric. She seems to be devoid of costume, as is true of many of Bychkova's dolls, though heavily tattooed. The pink chair alone is a work of art. When I see things like this, sometimes I just want to go home and not even try to do anything creative again, but I can still appreciate her doll genius as unique. (By the way, this doll sold on eBay for at least $90,000.00, perhaps over $100,000.00.) 

Christopher Walken's FIRST movie role!

I found this little oddity through a strange podcast called Walken 101, which purports to discuss each and every film/TV role Christopher Walken ever did in his (long, long) lifetime to date. He's been in over 150 of such, so obviously I can't get through too many of them. The podcast consists of an hour of two millennial stoners rambling on and on about their lives, and other inane subjects, sniggering and snorting at people they mention by name and asking for money. But once in a while, something on-topic and even intriguing comes up.

I'm going through a "thing" about Walken, even though I have very mixed feelings about him. I usually go through these things for a while, then come out the other side. I don't consciously choose them. Walken is a strange bird indeed: a blonde Dennis-the Menace-style child actor practically from birth, an androgynous-looking young dancer who was good enough to be in the first touring company of West Side Story, an androgynous-looking young actor who showed up in artsy films and TV shows, then. . . his "breakout" role in the Vietnam horror-drama The Deer Hunter, for which he won an  Oscar. Then a slow maturing into something less and less androgynous, until reaching the somewhat macabre, leathery, Galapagos-like appearance he exhibits today. At 76, this man isn't old, folks, he is OLD-old. 

The rest has been. . . I don't know. There has only been a handful of really memorable performances. The guys in the podcast generally suffer through his stuff, in which Walken appears for 5 minutes or less. When interviewed, he says (robotically, almost)  the same things over and over and over again. He never leaves the house. He's afraid of airports (and a long list of other things: elevators, horses, etc.). He was a lion tamer in his teens (though in other versions, he merely PLAYS a lion tamer in a play). He has no hobbies and no children, though he has been married 50 years to a woman who seems more like a mother to him.  But above all, he "likes to work" (i. e. takes everything that is offered to him with no apparent filtering/discernment process at all). He has an ENORMOUS fan base, but has become a sort of caricature of himself, and he knows it, but keeps on working. He has even said he'd like to drop in harness on a movie set. His last role, shot in Winnipeg, was as a beleaguered Saskatchewan canola farmer up against Monsanto (Big Pharma for agriculture). A FARMER?? Mr. Urban Dialect, Mr. Astorian Bugs Bunny, Mr. Gangster/Hit Man/file-toothed Supernatural Being? 

This just seems like too much of a stretch, but who knows. He will have to somehow-or-other lose his often-quite-prominent Queens accent, which, when out of character is (as the British say) "broad". His mother was Scottish, and he will likely try to summon up  some version of that, and he's right in that some Canadians (SOME Canadians) have a bit of Scots-Irish inflection in their vowel sounds, but if it's overdone it sounds ridiculous. "Doing voices" has never been his strong suit, and when he recites Poe's The Raven (even though he does a good job of it), Astoria somehow seems to get in the way.

Meantime, this short little thing, this obscure film shot by a woman animator experimenting with live action for the first time, is THE FIRST time little Ronnie appeared on-screen, and admittedly he's good, not overplaying the role. He's tall, too, taller than most of the women, and just on the other side of puberty. The voice he does is channeling Roddy McDowell, though I think it works in a film where everyone speaks in an artificial, pretentious manner. The very best part is the last few seconds, which I've captured in another video:

I will admit I'm the one who posted the short movie. It wasn't anywhere on YouTube, and the podcast guys insisted it was terribly obscure and not available anywhere, though I found it in about 2 seconds. So far YouTube hasn't killed me for doing this, maybe because no one cares very much. It has only received a handful of views, but if I start getting concerned with views, I get very depressed. The internet is just a horse race, where more lose than win, and the winners are often qualitatively the worst of the lot.

So here it is, and you can judge for yourself.  Little Ronnie's first appearance - but it wouldn't be his last. 

Four takes on a head shake

Playing with the speed on a nanosecond-long clip of Christopher Walken doing an incredibly sexy head-shake.

Dolls in distress

The astoundingly beautiful and powerful Enchanted Dolls made by Russian artist Marina Bychkova come up again and again in this blog as a source of inspiration. Part of it is the fact that the photography keeps improving, and the rest of it is that I can now make slideshows out of dozens and dozens of photos and don't have to try to squeeze them into and around the text (though as usual, I'll insert at least a few images here and there to break up the monotony of blocks of text). 

I actually appreciate the visceral discomfort these dolls can stir up, invoking as they do the childhood fairy tales which always turn out to be much darker and more violent than we remembered. It seems pretentious to say the dolls display non-verbal messages about power, control, sexuality, gender - all that stuff that we still fight over. But they do just that, and more. There is a mute masochism about some of them, such as this newest doll called Lady Amalthea, the main character in a story called The Last Unicorn.

Eyes swimming with unshed tears, lips unnaturally shiny and pouty, these creatures sometimes remind us of abused children, a connotation we don't want to see. We want to look away, we even think we should look away, but we can't - or, at least, we don't. Their costumes are gorgeous prisons, often with heavy, elaborate headgear made up of gleaming metal and thousands of tiny and individually hand-sewn crystals, flowers and pearls. Some dolls are heavily tattooed, and most have realistic genitalia which has caused a ridiculous amount of controversy at exhibits. Pictures of Bychkova at work evoke fairy tale heroines under enchantment, forced to work at some endlessly repetitive task until their fingers are worn to the bone.  

Here is her description of her latest masterpiece, Lady Amalthea:

"I’ve worked on this piece for over three years, dismantling and reassembling it multiple times as the image of the Unicorn slowly shaped itself. The 24k gold-plated bronze head piece was inspired by Hans Holbein’s 1539 portrait of Anne of Cleves, who was the 4th wife of King Henry the 8th. It is very light for its size, weighing only 82.3g (2.9oz). The costume is constructed with gold appliqué embroidery on fine tulle, 2,435 gold-lined glass beads (24k), 1,880 seed beads, 635 Swarovski crystals, 148 Mother of Pearl flowers, 46 fresh water Pearls and 21 Amethyst gemstones."

I found the following comments on a doll forum, and it's plain Bychkova's eerie humaniform/bodyworks of art still have the power to awe, inspire, and creep people right out. As usually happens on the internet, differing opinions or emotional responses are quickly judged as inadequate, unenlightened or just plain wrong. In the meantime, if I could be a witch (or, in my case, a "which"), I'd want to be the glam old person below. 

These are absolutely slaying me. They look so real that it is triggering my stupid empathy and my brain just can't handle it. I just start tearing up. Damn she's good

I don't even like dolls, but I would proudly display these in my home. That's insane.

Utterly stunning - the beauty of design and the soul of each doll is beyond amazing. I'm not a doll collector, but these would add magic to my home.

The fact that these dolls made all these people feel all these things prove that it is actual art.

Hideous. A selection of abused little girls. Maybe I'm a weirdo but I don't think a child (or adult for that matter) naked and crying is beautiful.

i wouldnt call yourself a weirdo. but id say you do have a problem with knowing a difference between fantasy and reality. probably one of those bland people with no imagination whos mind is too small to understand the reason behind art. when people like you see art that depicts the truth of your very own society you get offended. mostly because you choose to ignore the sadness of the world and pretend that everything is ok.

My gut instinct was not 'wow these are beautiful' but 'wow these look so realistically scared and how amazingly detailed is that girl's pubic region.' Are they more attractive to you because they're crying? I have enough imagination to know how these characters would feel and can see the sadness of the world reflected in it. I get it. Beautiful is not the adjective I'd use to describe it though. I'd like to see the artist make a strong woman. But I bet that wouldn't sell as well.

You're projecting the age, since the intended age of the dolls is not actually listed in the article....I assumed them to be in their 20's, some look perhaps in their 30's, and yea...a few look to be teenagers, but they all look like older teens in my eyes at that.

There's nothing wrong with nudity...so being naked while crying isn't inherently a problem. A person depicting a beautiful human being in a vulnerable state shouldn't be offensive or disturbing, but apparently it is to you and while that isn't "wrong"...you really do seem to be projecting your personal angst onto others.

The artist probably does not suffer from the same mental anguishes you do, they have their own, so calling this hideous for the reasons you are is not only callous....it also shows you don't really understand the intention behind art in general. 

Also, some of these show nothing other than emotion. Some of them are simply still poses that are unsmiling. Not nearly all of them are "sad", not nearly all of them are crying, being naked is not weakness because vulnerability does not equate to weakness (which you don't seem to understand, hence your reaction), being made out of porcelain does not inherently make something weak either...the way you personally interpret symbols is not necessarily the way the artist intended for them to be interpreted. It's not that you're "wrong", but you are definitely projecting and making it seem as though your personal judgment of these dolls is finite.

You're making it sound like everyone is literally crazy for thinking these are beautiful because of your personal issues....without stopping to realize just how those issues make YOU sound to others who don't have them.

I honestly don't think the implied age is a projection. The whole concept of a doll is capturing a youthful appearance. The large eyes, slim frame, and barley developed 'bodies' all appeal to the vulnerability of youth. Let's not pretend that wasn't the intent. And let's not pretend that something can't be beautiful and disturbing at the same time. These dolls are beautiful, but it's also okay to not be comfortable with the tearful sexualization of young bodies. And that's not to say what the artist did was wrong-- it's just an acknowledgement.

I don't find them all too appealing to be honest. The dolls could be pretty without sexualizing little girls. You may not find what the artist did "wrong" per say, but I definatly don't think anyone is incorrect to find "the tearful sexualization of young bodies" totally creepy. Especially the girl put on the bed.

Understanding what a human body looks like at different ages does not mean that you're projecting, it means you understand what you're looking at. These dolls are indeed modeled after very young girls. No one that looks at a baby doll is being accused of "projecting ages" onto a doll modeled to look like an infant. Humans have very distinct growth phases, and the phase they are modeling here is very much adolescence, from breast position, pelvic structure, and face shape. It's adolescence. Just because you never took basic anatomy and physiology, or any human reproductive biology classes and don't understand how that works, doesn't mean it's wrong.

I agree that it's creepy. All of those features together are identifying traits of a 11-15 year old girl, and if you don't find that creepy, then that's your issue. You can say that it's fine that they're naked and crying, but I find it less so being that they chose to make dolls that look like girls going through puberty, then make them look like they're crying, and then photograph them nude. On top of that, pose them on a bed while crying. It's creepy. It's creepy to sexualize the form of young girls, it's even creepier to sexualize the image of young girls crying. But hey, that's just me. Maybe you're a ok with people making virtual child porn too, because you think it's "just a projection of age".

I guess the big question to ask yourself, here, is this: Why do you find depictions of female nudity to be inherently sexual? These aren't sexualized poses or situations.

So you don't think that the doll made to look like a girl between 11-15 laying on the bed crying in a very reveling outfit is sexual at all? You don't find it sexualized one bit? Remember, that doll doesn't have any agency what so ever. An adult person made the choice to construct dolls to resemble all traits characteristic with adolescent girls going through puberty into one doll. Spend hours painting their genitals, and then photograph them nude. This adult chose to then make it so that they were crying. Chose to put these dolls that they intentionally modeled to look like little girls physically, who they chose to depict crying, and looking afraid, onto a bed.

Yeah... I don't think they're projecting. I think that's pretty straight forward in creepiness. This reminds me of all those creepy 3D renditions of virtual child porn that people always get busted for. Except this isn't 3D renderings of naked kids, they're dolls. But hey, "art".

The Glass of Fashion and the Mould of Form

"THE GRIP": or, How We Can Keep Ourselves Ethereal

This appeared in “The Grip” (a Toronto publication) on 5th April 1884: 

WOMAN'S BUGBEAR or 

HOW CAN WE KEEP OURSELVES ETHEREAL 

One mystic, miserable night, 

I felt myself expanding; 

My corset, gloves and boots grew tight, 

And I was left demanding 

What can it mean?

I slowly swelled like leavened dough 

'Twas surely barely human 

In one brief night that I should grow 

Into a side-show woman, 

So very stout.

My gloves flew from each swelling hand, 

My ripped boots left their places, 

My corset vainly made a stand, 

But, pop! bang! went the laces, 

And it was gone. 

And still I grew with fearful haste: 

My gloves were twenty seven, 

The tape around my swollen waist 

Proclaimed me Five-eleven 

Feet and inches!

I shuddering woke; it was a dream! 

My waist still graceful tapers; 

In "twos" my feet still glance and gleam, 

And carry on their capers, 

My gloves are fives. 

I warning take; my tiny waist 

Shall smaller grow in smaller corset; 

Here, Mary Jane, I must be laced 

Until it meets: there, force it 

Tighter and tighter!

There, fifteen inches, that will do. 

I scarce can breathe without a doubt, or 

Brag, the pain is fierce, but whew! 

Far better pain than growing stouter 

Any day!

Victorian Bicycle Humour

Gertrude: "My dear Jessie, what on earth is that Bicycle Suit for!"

Jessie: "Why, to wear, of course."

Gertrude: "But you haven't got a Bicycle!"

Jessie: "No: but I've got a Sewing Machine!"

The cat's in the corn

Bicycle "DON'TS" for the Victorian Woman

• Don’t be a fright.
• Don’t faint on the road.
• Don’t wear a man’s cap.
• Don’t wear tight garters.
• Don’t forget your toolbag
• Don’t attempt a “century.”
• Don’t coast. It is dangerous.
• Don’t boast of your long rides.
• Don’t criticize people’s “legs.”
• Don’t wear loud hued leggings.
• Don’t cultivate a “bicycle face.”
• Don’t refuse assistance up a hill.
• Don’t wear clothes that don’t fit.
• Don’t neglect a “light’s out” cry.
• Don’t wear jewelry while on a tour.
• Don’t race. Leave that to the scorchers.
• Don’t wear laced boots. They are tiresome.
• Don’t imagine everybody is looking at you.
• Don’t go to church in your bicycle costume.
• Don’t wear a garden party hat with bloomers.
• Don’t contest the right of way with cable cars.
• Don’t chew gum. Exercise your jaws in private.
• Don’t wear white kid gloves. Silk is the thing.
• Don’t ask, “What do you think of my bloomers?”
• Don’t use bicycle slang. Leave that to the boys.
• Don’t go out after dark without a male escort.
• Don’t go without a needle, thread and thimble.
• Don’t try to have every article of your attire “match.”
• Don’t let your golden hair be hanging down your back.
• Don’t allow dear little Fido to accompany you
• Don’t scratch a match on the seat of your bloomers.
• Don’t discuss bloomers with every man you know.
• Don’t appear in public until you have learned to ride well.
• Don’t overdo things. Let cycling be a recreation, not a labor.
• Don’t ignore the laws of the road because you are a woman.
• Don’t try to ride in your brother’s clothes “to see how it feels.”
• Don’t scream if you meet a cow. If she sees you first, she will run.
• Don’t cultivate everything that is up to date because yon ride a wheel.
• Don’t emulate your brother’s attitude if he rides parallel with the ground.
• Don’t undertake a long ride if you are not confident of performing it easily.
• Don’t appear to be up on “records” and “record smashing.” That is sporty.

Christopher Walken doll with cat

Kwanzan cherry trees burst into bloom in downtown Port Coquitlam

Me and the cherry tree: a ravishing encounter with nature on city streets

William Shatner reveals battle with loneliness | 60 Minutes Australia

Shatner, still ageless at 88, has made a deal with the devil, but sometimes the price is wearisome. The road is very long, and for all his fans, it's solitary. This only makes us love him more.

A remedy for the bugle-beak

BLOGGER'S NOTE. A good remedy for the hideous bugle-beak nose which has become the breed standard for Arabian horses is this radically-contrasting model, the so-called "Roman nose", which is convex and varies from gentle swell to really pronounced hump. This occurs naturally in certain breeds, such as the Andalusian, Lusitano and Lipizzan (and I feel better just having written those glorious words). I've found some examples of this classic noble horse profile, and I put them here because it's Easter Monday, a day as indefinable as that abyss between Christmas and New Years, when you might as well eat egg salad sandwiches and relax. 

O Happy, Joyous Eastertide!

The twelve-inch waist and other curiosities

"Here is a 'reader's letter' from New Orleans Times-Democrat, 22 March, 1896

 (though from the reference to India I suspect it may have been reproduced from a British source):

A correspondent writes from Jhalra, Central India:

“I wish more girls would write their figure-training experiences to your paper. I have just left the finishing school where I was for two years, and have come out to my father in India. I may say, without conceit, that I have a good figure and small waist, which are entirely due to the careful system of figure-training enforced at the school I had the good fortune to be sent to. I wish first to protest against the common belief that a small waist and tight-lacing are synonymous terms, that a small waist can only be the outward and visible sign of a tightly-laced corset, whereas it is much more usually the result of years of careful training while the figure is growing and supple and can be molded. 

When I went to the Paris school, at the age of sixteen, my waist measure was twenty-one inches, and I had never worn any but ready-made stays. On reaching my new school my figure was very carefully measured round chest, waist, and hips, my height and weight were taken, and all details entered in a book. After a few days I was fitted with a pair of long, fully-boned corsets with shoulder straps, the waist measure being twenty inches. I was laced into these without much difficulty, and at night I had to wear similar sized, though less stiffly boned, corsets. I at first felt very uncomfortable, but I was old enough to admire and envy the beautiful figures and tiny waists of the elder girls.

“The system enforced was that our waists should be reduced a quarter of an inch every month until the Superior considered that the utmost limit of tenuity, consistent with good health, bad been reached. Great attention was paid to our food and exercise, and drill, and corsets formed the medium through which we received our rewards and punishments. There was considerable rivalry between the girls, and rewards consisted in being allowed to lace our waists in as small as our vanity, or spirit of rivalry, desired on Sundays, and after 5 o'clock In the afternoon on week days. Punishments consisted of what was called ‘backboard drill’ and punishment corsets; the latter were very long, and as stiff as steel bones could make them, and were certainly instruments of torture. When I left school my waist measure was fourteen inches, and I can honestly say that I enjoyed good health and suffered no more than slight temporary inconvenience, and that, with one or two exceptions, the Superior and her staff had to exercise more vigilance to see that we did not lace in our waists smaller than the decreed size, than to see that the decreed size was not exceeded.

“During our free time in the evenings we used to see how small we could make our waists; and I dare say that many will disbelieve me when 1 tell you that many of us often succeeded in getting the tape to meet at twelve inches. I do not mean to say that I could have exhibited my waist laced in to twelve inches; on the contrary, we often were so tightly laced that we could scarcely breathe, and sometimes fainted before we were released. Since I have been “out” I have not been allowed to show my waist smaller than fifteen inches in public, Father says “people stare so at you,” but my night corsets are still always laced in till my waist measures only fourteen inches.

“Everyone here seems to think that I must be fearfully tight-laced. and must be suffering agonies, but it is just as easy and comfortable for me to wear a fifteen Inch waist as it is for untrained figures to wear a twenty or twenty-five inch waist, and I am able to take as much exercise walking, ruling, dancing, tennis. badminton, etc. as my larger-waisted girl friends. I am thankful to say that father likes to see my waist small, and when we dine at home alone I never show larger than fourteen inches, and in one pair of corsets with a lovely frock I exhibit a thirteen and a half inch waist: to make sure of this I am wearing that frock to-night, and father has just measured my waist, and says he certifies it is just over thirteen and a half over dress measurement.

“I am afraid you will think my letter very long, but I must add one word more. The superior's rule was that as long as a girl could wear her corset day and night for a month without such pain as to necessitate relaxing the lace, she should have the usual quarter-inch further reduction on the 1st of next month, and that a corset which could be worn from month's end to month's end, without release was not tightly laced.

“Tight-lacing only began when the corset was so tightly laced that it could not be worn all day and night without such pain as to necessitate relaxing the lace, and that there was hardly any limit to the tenuity to which a girl might reduce her waist provided that she always relaxed the lace when she found she was suffering from being too long in confinement at the extra small size; and she used to warn us never to allow our vanity to risk exhibiting in public a smaller waist than we had proved by private practice we were able to bear.”